And yet had he not seen signs of her resourcefulness even before they reached Flagey? There had been no tears, no tantrums during their time together. She had matched him step for step without complaint. His respect for her was growing.
Cassie was clearly pleased at his praise and he had to fight the urge to smile back at her. He dragged his eyes back to his plate. Heaven defend him from actually liking this woman! He scraped together the last of the ham and eggs.
But she would make a good wife.
Some demon on Raoul’s shoulder whispered the words into his ear, but he closed his mind to them. He was not the marrying sort. He lived for his work. Surgery was his first love and a man could not have two mistresses.
‘Our lack of a servant has not gone unnoticed, however.’ He told her, sitting back in his chair. ‘I have already set it about that you are so demanding no maid will stay with us.’
As he expected, she bristled at that. Her smile disappeared.
‘Me, demanding?’
‘Why, yes. They have experienced your managing ways for themselves. To their benefit in this instance, of course, and once I had explained that you were English they were not at all surprised when I told them you were extremely domineering.’
‘Domineering?’
‘I also said you were a scold.’
‘You did not!’
‘I did. A positive virago.’
She sat up very straight.
‘You are insulting sir.’
‘But truthful, milady. You have all the arrogance of your race. And your class.’
‘Oh, you—you—’ Her knife clattered on to her empty plate. She pushed back her chair and jumped up. ‘I shall wait for you in the chaise!’
Raoul laughed as she stalked out. Best to keep her outraged. That way she was much less likely to end up in his arms.
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached Rouen. They found a small inn near the cathedral and Cassie stood silently beside Raoul while he enquired of the landlord if they had rooms. She waited anxiously, wondering if they would be questioned or asked for their papers but their host showed little curiosity about his guests, merely took their money and summoned a serving maid to show them upstairs.
Cassandra had been icily polite to Raoul on the few occasions they were obliged to speak during the journey and when they sat down to a late dinner in their private rooms she was determined to maintain her frosty manner. Her companion seemed unconcerned and applied himself to his food with gusto, while Cassie only picked at her own meal. Her lack of appetite drew an anxious look from the maid when she came to clear the table and Cassie was obliged to assure her that she found no fault with the inn’s fare. Her smile faded once the servant had quit the room and she allowed her thoughts to return to the matter that had been worrying her all day. She could not forget what Raoul had said of her. It was very dispiriting and surely it could not be true.
‘You are not hungry?’
Raoul’s question cut through her reverie. She shook her head, feeling tears very close.
‘Is something wrong, milady?’
‘Did you mean it, when you said I was arrogant?’
‘Aha, so that still rankles, does it?’
‘Disdain for others is not a trait I admire,’ she said quietly, keeping her eyes lowered. ‘If the villagers thought me conceited yesterday, then I am sorry for it.’
She heard him sigh.
‘No, no, they saw nothing but goodness in you. I said what I did this morning because...’
‘Yes?’ Cassie looked up hopefully.
Perhaps he had not meant it, perhaps he had been teasing and she had been too quick to take offence. He held her gaze for a moment and she was heartened by the sudden warmth in his eyes, but then it was gone. He looked away and she was left wondering if she had seen it at all.
‘Because we needed a convincing reason for not having a servant with us,’ he finished with a slight, contemptuous shrug. ‘Your arrogance comes from your breeding, milady, it is hardly your fault.’
His words hit her like cold water. She had been selfish, yes, and thoughtless in eloping without any concern for the effect upon her grandmother, left alone to face the quizzes of Bath, but she had thought herself truly in love and Gerald had convinced her that they had no choice but to run away, or be parted for ever. Perhaps she had appeared arrogant towards Raoul, but only to keep him at a distance. She found him so dangerously attractive, but after what she had experienced with Gerald she had no intention of complicating her life by falling for the charms of another man. Ever.
Raoul watched Cassandra’s countenance, saw the changing emotions writ clear upon her face. He had intended to make her angry, but his taunts had wounded her, she had not shrugged them off as he had expected. The hurt in her eyes tugged at his conscience, but it also affected him inside, like a giant hand squeezing his heart.
Bah. He was growing soft. The woman was an English aristo. She would take what she needed from him and then cast him aside without a second thought. She did not need his sympathy. He pushed back his chair and rose.
‘It is late and we should sleep,’ he said. ‘As soon as it is light I will go to the docks and see if there is any ship there to take us to Le Havre. Who knows, I might even find a captain who is willing to take you all the way to England.’
‘Yes, that would be the ideal solution and would suit us both,’ she agreed.
Her tone was subdued and Raoul guessed she would be pleased to see the back of him.
Well, milady, the feeling is mutual!
‘At least we have the benefit of two rooms here,’ he remarked. ‘If you will allow me to remove a pillow and blanket from the bed I will not bother you again tonight.’
She nodded her assent and he picked up one of the branched candles and went into the bedchamber. The large canopied bed looked very comfortable. Raoul found himself imagining Cassandra lying there between the sheets, her glossy hair spread over the pillows and those dark-violet eyes fixed upon him, inviting him to join her. It was a tempting picture and the devil on his shoulder whispered that a few soft words would bring the lady into his arms. There was no denying the attraction, he had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her response when he had kissed her. There was passion in her, he would swear to it, just waiting to be awoken.
Why not? In a few more days she will be safely back in England and you will be free of her. What have you got to lose?
‘My honour,’ muttered Raoul savagely. ‘I will not demean myself to lie with my sworn enemy.’
Enemy? The word sounded false even as he uttered it. She might be a lady, and an Englishwoman at that, but over the past few days he had come to know her, to see the strength and resourcefulness in her character. The uncomfortable truth was that he was afraid. He could not give himself totally to any one woman and Lady Cassandra Witney was not the sort to settle for anything less. Brave and resourceful she might be, but she was born to command. To take, not give.
And what have you to give her, save perhaps a few nights’ pleasure and that would demean you both.
Quickly he pulled the coverlet from the bed, grabbed a couple of pillows and returned to the sitting